


I'll Write Your Name

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Astoria Greengrass Lives, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Character Death, Past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:14:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27590522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Albus Potter considers his life to be somewhat of a mess. He hates his boss and knows he can -- and probably should -- have a more enjoyable job. But he doesn’t. And he definitely doesn’t have a crush on his best friend of more than a decade. He definitely doesn’t think about those grey eyes and blond hair every damn day. He definitely has his life together. He definitely does the dishes a normal amount. His flat is definitely clean, no mum, you don’t need to see for yourself. He’s fine (but he knows he’s not. Not really.)And for some reason, the solution to all of his problems really just seems like it might come in the form of blond hair and grey eyes and a smile that makes his heart jump out of his skin.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Scorpius Malfoy/Albus Severus Potter
Comments: 15
Kudos: 28





	1. Chapter 1

Albus woke up as he did many Saturday mornings: with his hair an uncontrollable mess and a massive hangover. He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling before vaguely realizing, with a sudden jolt, that he did not know where he was.

That was enough to wake him from the delirious, hungover state that he had been content to lie in. He bolted upright and looked to his left, seeing white sheets and a comforter in a disheveled heap.

He tried, and failed, to remember the details of the previous night. He remembered going out with some friends in a Muggle pub, he remembered getting absolutely shit-faced, but that’s where it stopped. There was a blurry outline of a person, he didn’t remember a name, or even a gender, but he used his outstanding powers of deduction to determine that he was in that blurry outline’s bedroom.

Albus really just wanted a glass of water and a strong cup of tea, but when he tried to get up his head spun so much that he toppled ungracefully to the ground. How much had he drunk last night? He was extremely relieved to see that Blurry Outline was not in bed, but panic surged through him at the thought that perhaps some poor Muggle bloke had found his  _ wand _ last night, and then Albus would have an entirely different problem to deal with, though he knew its solution would start with Confund, and was not strictly legal, but that really only meant that there was no end to the problems that Albus would undoubtedly face.

He took a quick glance around the room from where he sat on the floor trying to get his pants on, taking a sigh of relief when he found his wand in the extended pocket of his jeans. He allowed himself another sigh of relief when he saw the Chudley Cannons poster on the wall. Definitely not a Muggle then. Not a particularly happy witch or wizard, though, based on their poor choice in Quidditch teams. James would be decidedly disappointed. Uncle Ron would probably go off on some rant about their potential and how they had just had rotten luck and everyone would laugh at him until he was red in the face.

Alubs finished getting dressed, and stumbled to his feet, putting a hand on the wall until his vision cleared and he felt less horrible, at least good enough to get out of the bedroom.

Blurry Outline seemed to have a nice enough flat; it was certainly more organized than Albus’ and it was also empty, which was probably the best part of it to him. Albus stood in the bedroom doorway for a minute before determining that Blurry Outline had left altogether. He glanced at his watch and nearly jumped.

'Shit, shit, shit,' he muttered under his breath. It was half ten and he had offered to cover a shift at the apothecary at eleven. He would need to be there at 10:45 and, though he hadn’t looked in a mirror, he did not believe that he could go into work wearing day-old clothes and smelling as though he hadn’t showered in a week. He gave a quick glance around the flat and determined that he had everything he’d entered with. There was a note on the door that read:

_ I’ve gone into work, didn’t want to wake you. Feel free to owl this address or never speak to me again, I’ve no opinion on the matter. _

_ AG _

Well at least he had some initials now. Not that it mattered much, Albus intended to choose the 'never speak to me again' option. He hadn’t ever had a relationship that lasted more than two dates, and most of the people he slept with he never talked to again, so he put the previous night out of his mind, and walked out of the flat, apparating to his own.

Shaking off some of the nausea that came with the apparition, which had never really been Albus’ favorite mode of transportation, he walked into his flat at 10:35 and rushed into the shower.

His boss liked him to wear ugly blue robes, which Albus hated, but he tolerated his job more than he hated his boss (only slightly), so he put up with it. He grabbed the horrid robes and took a quick shower, letting the hot spray alleviate some of his stress.

He performed a quick drying charm on himself, put on the robes and took the Floo -- which was  _ far _ superior to apparating -- to the apothecary in Diagon Alley.

It was the middle of September, and a Saturday, so Albus didn’t expect there to be many customers. He stumbled out of the fireplace in the back room and could hear Scorpius in the front, helping someone find something. Albus couldn’t hear what they were saying, and he had fifteen minutes before his shift started, so he took a quick glance at the list of potions that Matilda (his insufferable, stuck-up boss) had wanted him to complete.

'Bloody Brain Elixir,' he mumbled, wondering for the millionth time why, why, why,  _ why _ he had chosen to work  _ here _ with stupid Matilda, and not at Weasleys’ with his Uncle, he was sure that Uncle George was brewing more interesting, fun potions. He certainly wasn’t making potions that 'allegedly' made you smarter. Well, he probably was. But Albus was sure that his would be better than Matilda’s.

“Hey, Albus.”

Albus looked up from the cabinet he had been digging through for ingredients and saw Scorpius.

Ah, right. That was why he had taken this job. The blond hair and the grey eyes that Albus couldn’t stop thinking about.

“Hey, Scorpius,” Albus said.

“Thanks again for covering me.” Scorpius gave him a brilliant grin. “Don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“No problem,” Albus muttered, looking back into the cabinet, and not blushing.

“Right then,” said Scorpius, stretching out one of his arms. “I’m off. Places to be, things to do.”

Albus gave him a mock salute and Scorpius went out the back door, disapparating with a familiar  _ crack _ !

Albus sighed and got up, making his way to the front of the shop and plastering a smile on his face.

Most of the customers who came into the apothecary were old people wanting a shockingly wide variety of potions. Albus had learned that it was best not to ask why, usually. It wasn’t as if they sold anything illegal, and after a few horribly awkward conversations where he had asked too many questions for his own good, he vowed never to ask another customer a question about the potion they wished to purchase unless strictly necessary.

Unfortunately, due to the absurdly high number of lonely old people that came into the shop, more often than not, Albus found himself cringing as he was regaled with unnecessarily drawn out explanations as to why an eighty-year-old-man needed the Cure for Boils. 

_ “And then I burned the biscuits, but Emma, Emma she told me, ‘Oh don’t you worry, I’ll get it!’ but then she burns her hand, burns her hand real good. So then I’ve got to be the one to go to the market and get some more of that chocolate that she likes. Did I tell you about the chocolate she likes?” _

He winced at the memory. The man had looked to be quite elderly, and was in no rush to leave. He had stayed, talking to Albus about Emma and how she burnt her hand, and then he needed to go to the market to get the chocolate so they could make more biscuits, but then he had slipped, and there must have been something on the ground because all of a sudden he had boils, so he had gone back to Emma and she had told him that he best go to Diagon Alley and the whole story must have taken at least a half an hour at the rate he’d been talking.

The younger customers, he’d learned, would get what they needed and leave, making them far preferable to the older ones, but there were hardly ever any young customers, so Albus found himself nodding along and impatiently glancing at his watch, which had been his father’s, more often than he would have liked to.

_ Bet you’d never get bored at Weasleys’ _ , one half of his brain reminded him.

_ But those grey eyes… _ the other half said.

_ No more bloody old people at Weasleys’ _ the first half added.

_ That blond hair… _

And just like that, Albus found himself smiling, staring at the shelf he’d been dusting and daydreaming about Scorpius Malfoy.

“Ay!” called a voice. “Boy! You going to stand there being useless? I could use some help over here.”

Albus snapped back to the present with a shake of his head and a clear of his throat.

He put an apologetic smile on his face. “Of course. So sorry to keep you waiting.”

The man, who looked to be about sixty, huffed, but asked Albus if he could please have a Developing Solution.

As Albus went through his day, carefully cataloguing every purchase, more carefully watching the clock, waiting for it to strike four and let him go home, he brainstormed ways to get Scorpius to work at Weasleys’.

They’d had the conversation before, once, right after Hogwarts when they were both looking for work, and various times throughout the five years that had passed since then, though the only  _ real _ conversation they’d had about it was the first one. Every time it was brought up after that was either as a half-joke, half-serious-effort-by-Albus-to-get-Scorpius-to-work-there, or an attempt at conversation that was immediately shot down.

Albus  _ understood _ why Scorpius didn’t want to work there. His Uncle George and Uncle Ron, who ran Weasleys’ weren’t the...biggest fans of the Malfoys, no matter how much their views had changed since Albus befriended Scorpius when they were eleven.

But, as he had told Scorpius countless times before, Albus thought that George and Ron could put their differences aside and welcome him onto their staff, especially once they saw Scorpius’ undeniable talents.

In their conversation after Hogwarts, Scorpius had seemed skeptical, and Albus decided not to push it.

But it had been five years. five years of working for Matilda. Which also meant five years of going out for drinks every Friday with Scorpius to complain about working for Matilda. But neither of them were particularly confrontational, and things were fine, though not great, so they’d both left it at fine and didn’t try for better.

Albus was getting really, really tired of not trying for better. He had a horrible sense that he was letting his life slip away and he wanted to spend his time doing things he enjoyed, not working for bloody Matilda.

He loved potions. He loved brewing them, loved experimenting with different ingredients and different methods, even loved learning about theories behind them. He did  _ not _ love brewing potions that he knew would never work because his incompetent boss thought she was hot shit. He really, really hated it actually.

His cousin, Fred, had worked at Weasleys’ for some time, which had made sense because George was his father, and Albus could tell that Fred had genuinely enjoyed it. In fact, Albus had never met someone who  _ didn’t _ like working at Weasleys’. And he’d also never met anyone who  _ did _ enjoy working for Matilda.

So it seemed simple. But his bloody heart just loved to remind him about Scorpius Malfoy’s stupid blond hair and his stupid grey eyes and...just general beauty really. So it was very, very not simple.

It was four, and Matilda showed up for her shift, releasing Albus from his misery. He stumbled out of his own fireplace and into his messy, frankly disgusting flat. From the carpet he could see the stack of dirty dishes in the sink. There was some sort of stain on the reddish brown -- very ugly -- carpet that he’d stolen from James’ flat when he’d moved years prior. Albus was fairly certain James had placed some curse on it, though, because no matter how many times he tried, no  _ scourgify _ could make its stains go away.

He decided that the plates in the sink probably needed to soak for a little longer and made his way to his very comfortable couch, which was a lovely shade of green that reminded Albus of his dorm at Hogwarts.

Scorpius was at some Quidditch match that his girlfriend (whom Albus hated with a passion Scorpius told him to reserve for their job) had invited him to. Albus couldn’t remember who was playing; he’d never really cared much about Quidditch, and only grudgingly agreed to go to James’ matches (“He’s your brother,” his mum had told him. “He’s an arsehole,” Albus had responded, rolling his eyes. He’d lost that argument.)

Albus hadn’t made any plans for the remainder of his day, and had just decided that some Firewhiskey probably couldn’t hurt when something flew into his window. He immediately recognized the characteristic  _ smack _ as that of his cousin Rose’s owl, who was probably as old as she was, and thus was rather bad at flying.

He gave the poor creature a treat and let it sit on the windowsill as he read Rose’s letter.

_ Al, _

_ Don’t know if your mum’s written you about this, but it’s my mum’s birthday in a week and Hugo, my dad, and I are throwing her a surprise party. It’s this Saturday (the 19th, which is exactly one week from today, which is the 12th, in case you’re not aware of the date and can’t do maths, wouldn’t be surprised) at nine. _

_ Please don’t be late, and you might consider bringing a date. My mum’s been wondering if you’re seeing anyone, and I know you’re not, but she’ll try to set you up, so for your sake, bringing someone along wouldn’t hurt. She thinks you’re getting ‘lonely’ and ‘depressed.’ _

_ We’d all love to see you again. _

_ Love, _

_ Rose _

Albus chuckled to himself, his Aunt Hermione was probably right that he was getting lonely and depressed, but unless she could set him up with one Scorpius Malfoy, Albus wasn’t particularly interested in her ideas about his dates. And while his Aunt Hermione was quite talented, he was fairly certain that  _ that _ was one thing that she most certainly could not do.

_ I’ll be there. Will keep your mum’s interest in my love life in mind. _

_ Al _

He wrote his response on the back of her letter and tied it to the foot of Rose’s owl, watching as it fell in the air a bit, before flapping its wings and gaining altitude.

Then he started thinking. His Aunt Hermione’s birthday party (which he seriously doubted would remain a surprise to her) provided a unique opportunity to him.

Albus didn’t have many friends. He knew this. Scorpius knew this. It didn’t really bother him; he had his ridiculously large family and he had Scorpius. He was  _ friendly _ with other people, but he wouldn’t consider many of them to be real friends. That was more than enough for him.

_ Because _ Scorpius knew this, Albus figured that he could reasonably ask him to be his very platonic date to avoid his Aunt Hermione’s relentless -- and honestly frightening -- questioning about his love life without Scorpius suspecting Albus’ real, more than platonic feelings.

Well, that’s what he hoped would happen anyway. And he was fairly confident that it would turn out okay.

Albus walked out to his window again, looking out to see if he could spot his owl against the grey clouds.

_ Grey like Scorpius’ eyes _ , his brain told him

“Shut up,” Albus muttered aloud, then wondered if his aunt was right and he really was losing his mind. She was right about most things.

He opened the window and put a bit of a biscuit and a treat and sat down with a scrap of parchment while he waited for his owl to return.

_ Scorpius, _

_ I’ve been invited to my Aunt Hermione’s “surprise” birthday party, and Rose has advised me to bring along someone so that Hermione doesn't pester me about my love life too much. We’ll go as friends -- of course -- but if I go with someone, I’m hoping that she won’t ask too many questions. If she does, I’ll say we’re going as friends; at least she’ll see that I’m not too ‘lonely’ because she’s apparently been asking Rose (and Hugo too, I’d imagine) about that. If you don’t want to go, that’s fine, I can find someone else. _

_ It’s this next Saturday at nine, we can meet at my flat and use my Floo. _

_ Albus _

He cringed as he tied the letter onto his owl’s leg -- he felt awkward asking, but had really, really missed getting to spend time with just Scorpius. Since he’d started dating his girlfriend Sarah, three months prior, they’d hardly spent ten minutes by themselves. Albus knew that it wasn’t unreasonable for Scorpius to want to spend time with Sarah, but he couldn’t help but feel jealous, and hate her (in his defense, she was also beyond irritating).

He also knew that his whole family would be at his Aunt’s party, so he and Scorpius would not have anything resembling privacy at any point, but at least Sarah wouldn’t be there. At least they’d get to spend a few minutes by themselves at Albus’ flat before they left for the party.

_ Don’t get too far ahead of yourself _ , he scolded himself.  _ He hasn’t written back yet. And maybe Sarah will intercept it and decline before Scorpius even had a chance to read it, or maybe he’ll read it but decide that you’re not important enough to be friends with anymore and he wouldn’t want to waste his time, or -- perhaps more realistically -- Scorpius wouldn’t want to spend a Saturday with the entire Weasley clan, almost none of whom had particularly fond views of him. _

Albus let the scenarios play out in his head as he sipped his Firewhiskey. The sun had set, but Scorpius hadn’t written back yet. He knew it wasn’t a big deal, he’d just sent the letter, but it still stressed him out and he found himself glancing at his watch every few minutes, just as he had earlier that day, at the apothecary.

_ Maybe Scorpius will get on well with Uncle Ron and Uncle George _ , he thought.  _ Maybe they’ll like each other and they’ll  _ finally  _ see how they can help each other and then Scorpius and I can finally quit the apothecary and work at Weasleys’ and then he’ll realize how annoying Sarah is and they’ll break up, and then he’ll confess his love for me on a starry evening on the roof of his flat as we watch a meteor shower and then we’ll get married and live happily ever after. _

So maybe he was getting a little carried away. But the daydream did sound very appealing, and Albus poured himself another glass of Firewhiskey and let himself get distracted by it yet again, the worry over the absence of a reply from Scorpius slipping from his mind, overpowered by other, more enjoyable thoughts of Scorpius.

He woke the next morning to the pounding of his head as the sun streamed through the window. He groaned and covered his face with a throw pillow from where he’d fallen asleep on the couch, then -- not for the first time, and he was fairly certain it would not be for the last time -- swore never to have another sip of alcohol in his life.

He’d left the window open, and his owl was sitting on the edge, apparently not wanting to go in Albus’ flat, but unable to drop off the bit of parchment tied to its leg.

Albus stared at the owl for a minute, his brain was not working properly, and it took a minute for him to realize what message the bird must have carried.

When he  _ did _ realize what it meant, he scrambled off the couch, hangover be damned, and stumbled over to his owl, untying the letter with shaking hands. On the back of his letter, Scorpius had written only a few words.

_ Can we talk? _

_ I’ll be at The Leaky Cauldron at noon. _

_ Scorpius _

Albus’ heart was beating so hard he was sure that his neighbors could hear it through the silencing charms he’d cast around his flat.

What did that mean? It wasn’t a flat-out no, at least.

_ Wasn’t a yes either _ , his brain told him.

Despite the sinking feeling in his stomach, Albus wrote back.

_ Of course, I’d love to talk. See you at noon. _

He tied the note onto his owl’s leg, fed him a treat, and watched as he disappeared into the sky.

Albus really didn’t know why Scorpius had asked to meet him at Leaky, but the tone of this letter was unlike that of most of Scorpius’. Usually they were upbeat and Albus could practically  _ see _ Scorpius’ face as he’d written it, but this one? This one with just two vague sentences? Albus had  _ no idea _ what Scorpius had looked like when he’d written that, and he couldn’t help but to think back to all of the nightmare scenarios his mind had gone through the previous day, but they all seemed much more real in that moment.

But he tried not to think about whatever was going on with that, and glanced at his watch. 11:00. Damn. Albus really had slept in.

At least it would be nice to see his godfather’s wife, Hannah, who owned the Leaky and would often give him a free butterbeer. Neville, he realized, would likely be at Hogwarts, where he worked in the Herbology department.

Albus picked up the glass and the nearly empty bottle of Firewhiskey -- which had been nearly full the previous morning -- and took them into the kitchen.

He realized, with a sigh, that he really would have to pick up his flat that day.

_ Best to do it before the meeting with Scorpius _ , he decided.  _ Take the mind off things. _

So after he showered and tried in vain to get his hair to organize itself properly (it did not, it never did, an unfortunate fact for which he firmly blamed his father’s genes), he went back into the kitchen and placed a charm on the dishes to clean themselves.

He could hear his mother’s voice telling him to stop being lazy, what would he do if he couldn’t use magic one day? (‘And when would that day be?’ he’d reply, but then he’d see her glare and he’d shut up and do the dishes). But his mother couldn’t stop him from putting a charm on his own dishes in his own home, so he did.

Then he knelt on the carpet, next to a greenish stain that had been there since Albus had stolen it from James and had never faded. He decided not to think about what, exactly, had created that stain, and despite having tried to  _ scourgify _ it out numerous times in the past, with no success, something about this time felt different. He had decided that he was going to clean up his flat, an important first step in cleaning up his life and getting with Scorpius. So now he had confidence. And hopefully confidence would do the trick.

Confidence, it turned out, did not do the trick. He made a mental note to ask James just what he’d done to the carpet that made cleaning it impossible.

He looked at his watch. 11:45.

Suddenly the butterflies were back. Albus had avoided thinking about his meeting with Scorpius for 45 whole minutes, which was honestly much better than he’d been expecting, but that period of time was over and he was nervous. He took a deep breath and checked himself in the mirror.

He didn’t look great, but he never really did, and he looked good enough. He stared at himself, wondering just what he was doing with his life.

Albus made one more round through his flat, filled with dread and anxiety about seeing Scorpius.

11:55.

With a sigh, Albus reached into the pot of Floo powder he had next to his fireplace, noticed that he really needed to buy more when he had a chance, muttered a quick  _ incendio _ , then stepped into the lit fireplace and said, loudly and clearly, “Leaky Cauldron” before he was whisked into the flames and spit out onto the pub floor.

Coughing, and stomping soot out of his shoes, he was greeted by Hannah.

“Al!” she said happily. “Oh, it’s been so long, Neville’s at Hogwarts for a few weeks, but you know that of course, don’t you?” She’d come over and greeted him, a hand on his shoulder.

Albus nodded. “How’ve you been, Hannah?”

“Oh, quite well, and yourself?”

He swallowed some soot. “I’m doing all right.”

“Why don’t we get you some butterbeer and a stool, yeah?” Hannah asked him.

He shook his head. “Appreciate it, but I’m meeting someone, he should be here in…” Albus checked his watch, “five minutes or so.”

“Well, I’ll get you a table then,” she said, smiling warmly, leading him into the main dining room.

And with a quick glance at the fireplace behind him, Albus took a deep breath and readied himself for his dreaded meeting


	2. Chapter 2

Albus had sat down at one end of a long table and was nervously tapping his fingers against the wood, checking his watch every couple of seconds, while Hannah gave him pitying glances from across the room as she helped other patrons.

At 11:59, the bell at the door rang, marking the entrance of a person, and Albus’ head shot up.

And there he was.

Albus watched Scorpius look around the room for a minute before spotting Albus, his face splitting into a grin. Albus smiled back weakly.

Scorpius looked as stunning as ever. Albus really didn’t think it was fair for someone to look that handsome. He was wearing jeans, like Albus, and a grey sweater that Albus thought complemented his eyes wonderfully.

“Hey, Albus,” he said, settling down in the seat across from where Albus sat.

“Hey, Scorpius,” Albus replied, but then cleared his throat. “So, not that I’m not thrilled to see you again, but erm...what exactly’s going on?”

“Oh.” Scorpius looked down at his hands on the table. He sighed. “You know how Sarah took me out yesterday?”

Albus nodded. “Yeah.”

“After the game we were going to each go to our own flats and call it a night, but then she asked me to stay a minute, so I did.” He paused and looked cautiously at Albus.

“Yeah?”

“And…” Scorpius sighed again. “And she told me she’s been seeing someone else.”

Albus sat bolt upright. “What?!”

Scorpius winced. “Yeah. For a few weeks or so...so I mean...you know, not too long, but still…”

“Are you kidding?!” Albus was incredulous.

Scorpius winced again.

“No! It doesn’t matter  _ how long _ she was doing it, that was really shitty of her and she doesn’t deserve you, Scorpius.”

“Thanks,” Scorpius muttered. “I know you didn’t like her much.”

“That doesn’t mean I wanted her to fucking  _ cheat _ on you, mate. Do you want me to hunt her down? I’m assuming you’re not still seeing her…”

Scorpius gave a short chuckle. “No,” he said. ‘No, I’m definitely not, but I also don't want you to ‘hunt her down.’”

Albus couldn’t imagine how stupid Sarah had to have been to have cheated on  _ Scorpius Malfoy _ of all people. Albus would’ve done anything to be with him, and Sarah had cheated on him. It didn’t make any bloody sense.

“So,” began Scorpius. “I would be… happy to accompany you to your Aunt’s birthday thing.”

Albus smiled. “Thanks.”

“And I’ll be putting up with your family for how long exactly?”

Albus laughed. “I dunno, actually. Probably a while, but you can leave once everyone starts to get plastered.”

“And miss the chance to see that? Are you kidding?” Scorpius grinned.

“Point.”

“And isn’t this thing in the morning?”

“Yeah, and?”

“Isn’t that a bit early to be getting plastered?”

Albus shrugged. “Never stopped them before.”

“I don’t have to spend money on this right?”

Albus laughed. “You think Ron’s charging people to come to his wife’s surprise party?”

“I meant on gifts, Albus. You know, birthday gifts. And honestly? I wouldn’t be surprised if Ron  _ was _ -”

“Nevermind, don’t answer that. And...I actually don’t know about gifts. I’ll write Rose later.”

“Hm. And we won’t be required to wear any sort of...Gryffindor...thing, right?”

Albus raised an eyebrow. “Gryffindor thing?”

Scorpius shrugged.

“I wouldn’t expect that to be a...thing, I guess. But knowing my family, I’d be shocked if it’s not brought up.”

“Bloody Gryffindors.” Scorpius shuddered. “I can’t believe I’ve agreed to spend a whole day with them. How did you live with all those people?”

“Honestly I’ve no idea. Think they feel bad for me. I know James feels guilty about teasing me so much about it when we were kids and so do my cousins, but they all stopped talking about Houses entirely when I was sorted. Few years ago they all apologized to me; said it didn’t really matter what House I was in, but it was mostly just horrible and awkward for all of us. It’s gotten better. Used to be that no one talked about it at all, now they give me shite for being a Slytherin and I give them shite for being Gryffindors. Worked out all right in the end, I think”

Scorpius snorted. “Can I give them shite for being Gryffindors or will that just make them hate me more?”

“They don’t hate you.”

Scorpius looked at him. “Seriously?”

“Well, I mean they don’t hate you  _ now _ . They definitely did, I won’t lie. But things’ve changed. They’ve changed.”

“You’re telling me that your Uncle Ron will actually try to have a civil conversation with me on Saturday?”

Albus winced. “Ron’s a little behind. But everyone else? Honestly, yeah, I think they would. I don’t think you’ll be treated any differently than anyone else’s date.” Albus tried not to blush as he said “date” and hoped that it had come out as casually as he meant it to.

“I mean I could see that with your cousins, sure. But your Aunts and Uncles? I dunno, Albus. I’m not saying I won’t go because of this, I promise you that I will go, but I do need to know what to expect.”

“I’d say Ron and George will be the toughest, they harbor the most grudges, but seriously, Scorpius, I think everyone else’ll be fine.” A moment passed. “And I think that Ron and George will be fine too, they just...they’re just more...difficult.”

Scorpius looked skeptical, but he nodded.

Albus tried not to think about how Ron and George were the ones who he really,  _ really _ needed to get over themselves and accept Scorpius so that he could quit the apothecary and have all of his dreams come true.

“So,” began Scorpius with a small smile, “I’d like to restate my original question, and ask again, if I may please give your wonderful, horribly Gryffindor-ish family shite for being so horribly Gryffindor-ish?”

Albus smiled back. “Yeah, actually, I think that’d be a good way to break the ice a bit. My family’s quite adept at giving shite, though, so come prepared.”

Scorpius laughed. “What do you think I did at Hogwarts? I’ve been giving Gryffindors shite since I was eleven, Albus. You know that. You gave them shite with me.”

“Sure, but my family’s massive Scorpius. It’s like...I dunno, It’s like going up against twelve Jameses at once.”

Scorpius laughed as Hannah came over with two butterbeers.

“On the house. You two have a nice time, yeah?” she said, winking at Albus, who turned scarlet and stared determinedly into his butterbeer.

She laughed and walked back behind the counter.

“Your brother doesn’t scare me. Still thinks he’s the greatest Chaser in the history of the world, does he?”

“Probably, knowing him.”

“So where is the bloody thing again? I don’t recall you actually mentioning a place.”

“Right, yeah, it’s at Ron and Hermione’s, so we can take my Floo. Just be at my place by 8:55.”

“Yeah, alright. I’ve got to go, Mum’s been wanting me to get lunch with her and we agreed on today, shocked she hasn’t sent a Patronus already, ‘s a matter of fact.”

Albus stood up. “See you Saturday.”

“Saturday,” Scorpius responded, a hand in the air as he walked out of the pub and onto the streets of London.

Albus watched him go, until he couldn’t see his outline out the window, before putting a few sickles on the counter for Hannah and walking into the back room where he could go to Diagon Alley to pick up his much-needed Floo powder.

Diagon wasn’t particularly busy, and Albus was grateful as he made his way towards Weasleys’.

Weasleys’ was, of course, much busier than the quiet street outside might have suggested. Weasleys’ was always busy, and his Uncles were always happy to help. He didn’t recognize the witch working one of the registers, and figured that Ron and George were probably in the back working on new products.

He found the Floo powder with ease, paid, and, not feeling like walking to the nearest Floo, decided to apparate to his flat.

He dumped his newly purchased Floo powder into the pot next to the fireplace, grabbed some robes out of his wardrobe and contented himself with spending his day brewing the potions that he wanted to brew far far away from Matilda.

Potions had always felt like a safe space for Albus. No matter what sort of problems he had in his life, potions were there. Getting out the materials, — and sometimes a recipe book if he was feeling adventurous and wanted to brew something new — chopping, stirring, brewing; it all calmed him down. He didn’t think about anything else but the potion. It was the only time where he could actually get himself to direct every ounce of focus he had towards one thing.

Albus spent his week counting down the days until Hermione’s party. Rose had confirmed that they did not need to bring gifts (but if he wanted to get her something, she wouldn’t complain).

Matilda was as horrible as she usually was at work, and Albus focused on devising a plan to get Scorpius to get on with his Uncle Ron and Uncle George, and getting Uncle George and Uncle Ron to appreciate Scorpius. It was proving to be a rather difficult task, because Albus, despite his hopes, had no idea how to get Ron, George, and Scorpius to interact in a normal conversation.

He’d owled his mum on Wednesday night, having tired of thinking about it on his own. She’d offered to Floo to his place, which he refused because, though he had cleaned that weekend, his flat was nowhere near ready for company, especially not that of his mother.

“I don’t know what to do,” he’d told her frustratedly on Thursday afternoon in her back garden. “Ron and George can’t stand him just because he’s a Malfoy, and Scorpius doesn’t trust them.”

His mother looked at him pityingly. “Have you tried talking to Ron, George, and Scorpius about it?”

Albus nodded glumly. “Sort of. I talked to Scorpius the other day. I think he’s willing to give them a chance if they’re willing to give him a chance.”

“But…”

“But I don’t think they’re willing to give him that chance.”

“Al…” his mother began.

“I know,” he said. “I know they’ve gotten better, I really do, Mum. But they’ve still got a ways to go. And I don’t know what’ll happen if they have that conversation before Ron and George are ready to view him as his own person.”

Ginny looked at him for a minute. “This is really bothering you.”

_ Astute observation! _ Albus wanted to yell, instead he nodded, looking at her hopefully.

She sighed. “I’ll talk to Ron and George, okay? I know they’ll love Scorpius if they give him a chance, and I’ll do everything I can to make sure they do.”

He hugged her. “Thanks mum.”

She kissed the top of his head like she had when he was little. “Of course, Al. Owl me if you need anything all right?” She looked at him worriedly and, Albus noticed, a little sadly, too.

“Yeah.”

She nodded, but didn’t look completely satisfied. Albus wondered what he was in for later. “I’ll see you at your Aunt’s party.”

“See you then.”

“Saturday at nine. Ron-”

Albus rolled his eyes. “I know when the party is, Mum.”

“-Ron and Hermione’s cottage.”

“Mum!”

She held her hands up. “Fine, fine.” She kissed his head, then ruffled his hair. “Love you, Al.”

He scowled and tried (and failed) to un-ruffle his permanently-ruffled hair. “Love you too, Mum.”

She smiled at him and he disapparated.

The only issue with their plan was that he had to talk to Scorpius.

Albus was terrified that he would push it too far and then Scorpius would hate him, and he’d lose his best friend.

As Saturday approached, he tried to formulate a natural, non-confrontational way that he could talk to Scorpius about working at Weasleys’. As of Friday evening, he was failing.

He’d paced around his flat. He’d even taken a walk around his block trying to clear his head and think about his plan.

He’d also thrown a cauldron across his kitchen. And a rather expensive bottle of Muggle scotch.

He was regretting the last two items. The first two hadn’t helped much either, though.

What was he supposed to do? Albus didn’t like difficult conversations. Not one little bit. And he didn’t see any possible way to get where he wanted to be without a difficult conversation. Not just any difficult conversation, either. A difficult conversation with his best friend who he  _ just so happened _ to have feelings for. Albus didn’t like to think of it as a crush because he wasn’t twelve, and “feelings” made it sound more manageable...like it was just something that had happened once, and would go away in time.

He thought for the millionth time about leaving the apothecary without Scorpius; about going to work at Weasleys’ by himself; about all of the problems he knew that would solve: no more Matilda, plus he and Scorpius had promised to stick together, and if he broke that promise he had no doubt that Scorpius would hate him, and then hopefully Albus’ feelings would go away.

The only issue with that plan was that he didn’t know what he’d do without Scorpius in his life.

_ Great _ , he thought.  _ I’ve staked my entire state of being on one person, that’s healthy and normal, right? _

But Saturday was approaching by the second, and Albus resigned himself to the fact that he wasn’t going to have a plan. His mum had owled him to let him know that she had (very subtly, she assured him) gotten Ron and George to at least start to open their minds to the idea that Scorpius could help them. That just left him to talk to Scorpius.

Maybe he could get someone to do it for him, he thought as he stared at the ceiling waiting for sleep to arrive. Fred? Fred liked Scorpius and his father owned Weasleys’, and Fred had worked there for a few summers. Maybe Albus could get Fred to tell Scorpius how fun working there was; maybe Fred could convince his father that Scorpius would be a great worker. But that would require telling Fred about why Albus couldn’t leave the apothecary without Scorpius, and he couldn’t lie because Fred could sniff out lies like nifflers could sniff out anything that shone.

And Fred wasn’t exactly known for being tight-lipped about anything, so telling Fred that particular secret (or any secret, really) was completely out of the question.

Merlin, this was a mess.

Albus let thoughts of the next day, thoughts of how Scorpius would react when he inevitably started the conversation about Weasleys’, thoughts of Scorpius’ smile, thoughts of his eyes, his hair -- thoughts of him in general, really -- take over as he drifted off.

He was woken rather rudely by a hammering on the door of his flat at half eight.

Rolling out of bed and grabbing his wand, he stumbled to the door.

“Who’s there?” he called, sleep evident in his own voice.

“It’s me,” came Scorpius’ voice, and Albus immediately blushed. He looked like a right mess in the mornings, and was not particularly keen on having Scorpius see him like that.

He opened the door, nonetheless, seeing no other option.

Scorpius grinned at him and Albus felt his stomach twist.

He scratched the back of his neck as he let Scorpius in. “Sorry I’m a bit of a mess, wasn’t expecting you this early.”

Scorpius looked around his flat. “Yeah, sorry about that, figured we could get ready together.”

Albus blushed. “Get ready together?”

“I dunno, Albus, like...dunno what I was thinking, just wanted to see you, I guess. Could use some alone time with you before I’m ambushed by your family.”

His blush deepened. “Erm..okay. That’s...understandable. My family’s a bit…” he sighed. “Well, they can certainly be a bit much.”

The bloody grin again. “I’m aware.”

Albus gestured vaguely at his room. “So, I’ll go get dressed, and we can...I dunno clean up my flat? Talk?”

A laugh. “I’m not even going to bother trying to clean up this place, Albus. You’re welcome to, but I think I’ll help myself to some tea? And oh! Have you got any biscuits? I skipped out on breakfast.”

“Yeah, sure, go ahead. Biscuits are in the cupboard. I’d expect there to be food at Ron and Hermione’s though.”

“Thanks, mate.” Scorpius patted Albus’ shoulder as he walked into his bedroom.

Albus started by splashing some water on his face and quietly cursing himself. Then he pulled on jeans and a green sweater that was probably hideous, but his mind was too focused on what he was going to do at the party to think about the specifics of his outfit.

What  _ was _ he going to do at the party? He still had twenty minutes before they had to leave, that was surely enough time for the Conversation. Should he do it before? Get it over with, then enjoy the party without being filled with dread?

Albus stared at himself in the mirror. He was due for a haircut. He took a deep breath.

“I can do this,” he muttered to himself. “I can do this. It’s just one  _ fucking _ conversation. With my best friend. I can do this.”

“Albus?” Scorpius called.

“I’m coming!” he called back. “Just...er…”  _ thinking about you  _ “scourgifying some toothpaste, be there in a minute!”

So with one last look in the mirror, and another deep breath, Albus walked out of the bathroom, out of his bedroom, and into the living room where Scorpius sat with that  _ stupid, stupid _ grin that made Albus’ stomach tie itself in knots and some biscuits and tea.

“Biscuit?” he asked.

Albus shook his head, his nerves leaving no room for an appetite. “I’m good, thanks.”

He sat on the armchair across from where Scorpius sat on the couch. They sat in silence for a few minutes, comfortable silence for Scorpius who was enjoying his tea, and terrible and stressful for Albus who was trying in vain to get his nerves under control.

He took a deep breath (he was doing that a lot, he noticed) and sat up in his armchair. “So,” he began.

Scorpius looked at him. “So…”

“So, we both hate Matilda.”

Scorpius snorted.

“And,” Albus continued. “I know that you love potions. I -- I know we both love potions, and that the issue isn’t exactly the subject matter, I guess.”

Scorpius nodded.

“Well, I mean, we both know that Matilda’s potions are going nowhere, and that it’s honestly getting tedious and boring, more than anything else…” he was blabbering, and he cut himself off with a shake of his head. He looked at Scorpius. “I don’t think either of us are...happy...there, exactly.”

He paused, searching Scorpius’ eyes for confirmation.

Scorpius looked at him for a minute, eyebrows coming together in a tight line, but eventually he slowly nodded.

“And I think, no, I  _ know _ that we can do better. Both of us.”

“Albus…”

Albus held up a hand. “And I know that there aren’t many jobs for potioneers right now, even fewer that we’d qualify for, or enjoy doing, and I know you don’t like it, but….”

“Albus…”

“I know you don’t like it, but I really think it would be good. For both of us. I won’t pretend that it’ll be  _ easy _ or perfect, I know it won’t be, trust me. But I think it would be good. And I….” he trailed off, looking at Scorpius. “I really don’t know how much more of this...just Matilda, I don’t know how much more of her I can take….” his voice was barely a whisper by the end. He looked at Scorpius.

Scorpius seemed torn, discomfort clear on his face.

Albus looked at him some more.

Scorpius let his head drop, sighing. “It’s…” he began, before shaking his head and raising it to look Albus in the eyes. “It’s hard. I don’t -- I don’t  _ like _ Matilda, I don’t, you know I don’t. But Albus…” he trailed off again.

Albus tried to give him a smile, which Scorpius weakly returned. “I don’t know if I can do that. Work for your uncles, I mean.”

Albus opened his mouth, but Scorpius held up a hand. “I know they’ve changed, I believe you. But there’s still this….fear, I guess. I’m scared that they’ll hate me, and I know it’s only somewhat irrational. And I hate it. Because I  _ know _ that if they let me, I’d be great at...I dunno, actually, whatever it is potioneers do there. But I don’t want to put myself out there only to get rejected for who my family is.”

“I know,” Albus whispered.

“And I’m not saying that’s what’ll happen. But I’m scared it is. And until they both give me hard evidence that they’ve truly changed, until I have an actual, positive experience with them, I don’t think that fear’s going away.”

“And if you did?” Albus asked. “Have a positive experience with them, I mean. Would you do it?”

Scorpius thought for a minute. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah I think I would.”

Albus grinned, opening his mouth, but, again, Scorpius held up a hand. “I think I’d want to give it a little time, though. Even then.”

The grin disappeared.

“At least until it doesn’t feel...awkward. But yeah, if they can show me that they’ve really changed, I would.”

“Thank you,” Albus said. “Really. That...it means a lot.”

“Of course, mate. I want out of that bloody apothecary just as much as you do, believe me.”

Albus laughed, and it felt good. His heart was still pounding in his chest, going a mile a minute, but he had a chance. He finally (finally!) had some  _ hope _ . All of his dreams seemed a little bit less like far-off impossibilities that were fun to think about, and a little more like actual possibilities. Like they could actually happen. To him.

Of course, it was all contingent upon his uncles not being arses. And Albus, though he loved his uncles, was not particularly confident in that ability of theirs.

But his mum had talked to him. If anyone could talk sense into his uncles, it was his mother. He knew that much. And he hoped that it would be enough.

“So,” said Scorpius, bringing Albus out of his thoughts. “Seeing as it’s two ‘til nine, shall we perhaps get going?”

“Oh, shit, yeah,” Albus cleared his throat, hardly daring to imagine his mum’s face if they showed up late. “Yeah, we definitely should.”

They stood and Scorpius gestured to the fireplace. “After you.” He bowed and Albus rolled his eyes, stepping towards it.

His anxiety levels were still far too high for his liking, which confused him, as he had already had the dreaded Conversation. Maybe it was residual anxiety.

His hands were shaking, he noticed with some alarm, as he reached into the pot of Floo powder.

_ Stop _ , he tried to tell them. It didn’t seem to work, unfortunately. At least his palms weren’t sweating. At least he hadn’t made a complete fool out of himself in front of Scorpius.

_ Still plenty of time for that _ , his brain told him.

Albus shook his head, clearing the thoughts out as he stepped into the fireplace.

“Granger-Weasley cottage!” he called, his eyes locking on Scorpius’ as he saw him reach down into the pot of Floo powder.

Albus felt the familiar, yet still slightly disorienting, feeling of being whisked up and away, before he was spit out onto Ron and Hermione’s patterned rug. A minute Scorpius flew out, landing on top of him.

He was immediately on his feet, reaching a hand out to help Scorpius up, who gave him the grin that Albus was steadily developing a love-hate relationship with.

Scorpius took his offered hand and pulled himself up. “Shall we?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

The party, as Albus had correctly guessed, was far from a surprise for Hermione.

At 9:02, when Hermione walked in the door from getting a coffee (“You made her get a coffee on her birthday? Really, Ron?” his mum had asked), they had all been waiting in the living room.

“Surprise!” the Weasley clan, as well as Albus’ family, everyone’s dates, and all of Ron and Hermione’s friends yelled. Albus estimated that there were, at the very least, 75 guests in attendance.

Hermione had the good graces to look at least somewhat surprised, but the huge smile on her face (and the fact that the coffee she’d been holding hadn’t dropped to the ground) gave her away.

Nonetheless, she’d thrown her arms around her husband, who’d looked rather sheepish, and Albus figured that he’d probably been the one to let it slip. It wouldn’t have been the first time, he thought, remembering how he’d accidentally told his mum about  _ her _ surprise party after a long night and a lot of firewhiskey when Albus had been fourteen. Hermione had been -- only slightly -- embarrassed, and quite exasperated when Ron had confessed the next morning. Albus had thought his dad might have beheaded Ron, though his mum had laughed it off and said that she was happy they’d put so much thought into it (his dad had forced him, his siblings, Ron, and Hermione to spend hours planning the damn thing while his mum had gone out with her old Quidditch friends).

“What a surprise!” she exclaimed, not looking the least bit surprised. Albus could see his mum glowering at Ron, who took a sudden interest in his shoes. He decided to watch his mum yell at him later. When one wasn’t on the receiving end of it, his mum’s rages really could be quite entertaining. Albus’ favorite subject to watch when it came to his mum’s lectures was James, but his Uncle Ron would probably be enjoyable as well.

Ron, Rose, and Hugo waved their wands and streamers, banners, and balloons of all colors and shapes filled the walls and doorways.

Hermione pecked Ron on the cheek and smiled at him, eyes twinkling and clearly very amused at his embarrassment.

“Al!” he heard someone call from behind him.

He turned around and found his grandmother, grinning from ear to ear, walking towards him with open arms.

Scorpius took an awkward step away.

“It’s so good to see, you dear!” she exclaimed, grabbing his face in both hands and planting a kiss on his forehead.

She removed her hands, only to place them on his shoulders a second later. She gave him a warm smile before turning to Scorpius, who upon realizing what she was going to do, smiled politely and took a step back.

Albus tried to suppress a smile, seeing the alarm on Scorpius’ face, clearly not realizing the inevitability of Molly Weasley’s hugs and kisses as a form of greeting.

“Oh,” he started. “I don’t--”

But he was cut off.

“And you, dearie! It’s been far too long.” She threw her arms around him and whispered something into his ear that Albus couldn’t catch.

Scorpius was clearly uncomfortable with all of the hugging, but his grandmother didn’t notice, and likely wouldn’t have cared if she had noticed. He was still standing straight, but he awkwardly raised his arms to pat her on the back.

Albus could see the plea for help on his face, but only smiled at him and mouthed “Sorry!”

Scorpius glared at him, but Albus could tell there was no real animosity behind it.

His grandmother stepped back, then looked at them.

“How’ve you boys been?” she asked, a bright smile still lighting up her face.

“Erm...good,” Albus said as Scorpius nodded vigorously. “We’ve been good.”

She wrapped them both in another hug. “You two enjoy the party alright? Ron’s asked me to make my treacle tart and I think it’s turned out most wonderfully.”

“Thanks, Gran,” Albus said once she let them go. “I think we’ll go say hi to Rose and Hugo.”

“Of course!” her expression turned stern. “But you best write more often, Albus Potter, if you want any of that tart at  _ your _ birthday.”

He winced. His grandmother’s treacle tart was quite good, though he wasn’t sure exactly what she wanted him to write. ‘Gran, I’ve just drunk a bottle of firewhiskey and had a long wallow in self pity. Love, Albus’ didn’t seem like it would cut it. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it, love. You two have fun!” She hugged him one last time, whispering “but if you don’t write, you’ll have lots to worry about.”

And with that, she smiled and disappeared into the crowd of other guests.

“Well, this is going wonderfully,” Scorpius grumbled.

Albus watched his grandmother disappear into the party. “Yeah, that’s my Gran for you.” He paused. “But she seemed to like you quite a bit, yeah?”

Scorpius considered it for a minute, but then a smile crept onto his face. “Yeah, I guess she did.”

Albus smiled at him. “Ready to mingle?”

Scorpius’ smile turned into a grimace. “More or less.”

“Good enough, let’s go wish Hermione a happy birthday.”

He and Scorpius wove their way to the front of the room, where Ron and Hermione were enthusiastically greeting guests.

“Al! Scorpius!”

His Aunt seemed as happy to see them as his grandmother had, and wrapped both of them in a quick hug.

Albus could feel Scorpius tense next to him. He got the distinct impression that his friend was not enjoying all of the hugs, and found himself wondering what Malfoy family gatherings were like. The thought of Draco Malfoy welcoming his guests with hugs and kisses was enough to make him smile. Scorpius sent him an odd look, and it took all Albus had not to laugh outright.

“Good to see you two,” Ron said, shaking both their hands.

Albus could practically feel the fear and discomfort radiating off of Scorpius, and could sense his Uncle’s discomfort as well. He wondered just what his mother had told him and George, and made a mental note to ask her when the next time he saw her.

“Good to see you, Mr. Weasley,” Scorpius said.

Ron laughed uncomfortably. “Ron’s fine.”

Scorpius smiled tentatively. “Good to see you, Ron.”

The four of them stood there in what Albus considered to be a fairly awkward silence until Ron turned his attention towards Albus.

“And of course, you, Al.”

“Good to see you, Uncle Ron.”

Hermione had turned and started talking to someone who’d approached her, Albus didn’t recognize them, but he was fairly certain they were from the Ministry.

Ron looked awkward as he cleared his throat, his eyes darting between Albus and Scorpius. “So...erm...you two still work at the apothecary in Diagon?”

“Yeah,” said Scorpius hurriedly. “We do.”

Ron nodded. “You like the job?”

Scorpius gave a small laugh. “We love the job,” he said. “The issue’s with our boss, Matilda.”

“She owns the place,” Albus added.

“Yeah,” Scorpius continued. “And she’s the worst. Thinks she’s the best thing since...what’s the Muggle expression?”

“Best thing since sliced bread,” Albus supplied.

Ron laughed. “Well she sounds like a nutter, but you should tell my dad that expression, he’s been using it all wrong for years. ‘Best thing since diced lead,’ I think’s what he’s been saying.” He paused. “Doesn’t make much sense at all if you think about it.”

Albus mustered a smile. His grandfather’s fascination with all things Muggle had always been quite entertaining, as he knew almost nothing, yet was very sure of himself. He’d been thrilled when Albus’ parents had enrolled him and his siblings in Muggle school before Hogwarts (Albus and his siblings had not shared his enthusiasm) and many of his childhood memories of his grandfather included getting questioned about the latest technologies in the Muggle world. “Well, we’ll let you say hello to everyone else, but truly is nice to see you again,” Albus said before things could get awkward once more.

“Right!” Ron said. “Enjoy the party.” He smiled at both of them, and they walked out of the living room and into the dining room where many of the guests were eating Pumpkin Pasties and talking amongst themselves.

As they walked out of the room, Albus caught a glimpse of his mum approaching Ron, displeasure clear on her face, and he smiled to himself.

Scorpius looked at him. “What’s so funny?” he asked.

“Mum’s about to yell at Uncle Ron,” he said.

Scorpius winced. “Kind of feel bad for him,” he said.

Albus laughed. “He’ll be fine. It’s not as if it’s never happened to him before.”

Scorpius nodded, opened his mouth, then paused, as if he were considering what to say. Then he closed his mouth. Then stopped walking, then started up again, then stopped and opened his mouth again.

Albus raised an eyebrow, amused. “What?”

“Well, erm, how do you think that went?” he said cautiously. “I mean, how do you think I did? Did he like me? Was it weird? What--”

Albus put a hand on Scorpius’ arm. “You did fine. There was an awkward moment, but that’s to be expected. I think he liked you.”

Scorpius looked at him. “Really?”

“Yeah, mate,” Albus said. “I really do. I know my mum...erm,  _ talked _ to him about, you know…”

The corners of Scorpius’ mouth twitched up. “Not being such an arse?”

Albus smiled. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“Hello,” came a voice from directly behind Albus, at the same time that a hand clapped his shoulder.

He jumped about a foot in the air and whirled around, seeing an all-too-familiar face.

“Merlin, James, you scared the shite out of me. You can’t  _ do that _ to people.” He shook his head as Scorpius laughed.

“Believe I just did,” his insufferable, horrible git of a brother told him, grinning.

James looked between Albus and Scorpius and raised an eyebrow. “So are you two…?”

Scorpius choked on his breath.

Albus felt all of the blood in his body rush into his cheeks as he glowered at his brother. “For the love of…” he shook his head. “No, James, no we are not.”

James nodded slowly. “Sure,” he said.

“We’re not, James. Leave it.”

He held his hands up. “Whatever you say, Al.”

He leaned in and whispered, “You’re secret’s safe with me, don’t worry.”

Albus shoved him away and rolled his eyes. “Bugger off.”

Whatever retort James was saying was cut off by Scorpius, who had recovered from his wheezing. “How’s Quidditch, James?”

That seemed to do the trick. James quickly forgot whatever it was he was going to say and began animatedly talking about Quidditch.

Merlin, Scorpius was a genius. Albus had known his brother twenty-three years, and Scorpius was the one to take control of the conversation.

James launched into some speech about something or another in Quidditch, and Albus sent a thankful glance towards Scorpius.

Scorpius smiled back and they left James, who shouted indignantly at them as they walked away, to his Quidditch talk.

Scorpius shook his head once they had escaped James. “He never bloody shuts up, does he?”

Albus chuckled. “No, no I don’t think he does.”

Scorpius looked around for a minute, then looked at the long dining room table they were standing next to. “Pumpkin Pasty?”

Albus considered it. “Eh, why not?”

Scorpius handed him one.

“Don’t eat that!” someone said behind them.

Scorpius, who had the pasty halfway to his mouth, paused.

Fred came running over to them. “Don’t.”

“Erm...why not?” Albus asked, the pasties looked perfectly fine to him.

“Saw Dad put something in them earlier,” Fred said.

Scorpius gingerly put the pasty on his table, giving it a withering look as he withdrew his hand carefully.

Albus dropped his on the ground with a yelp. “Seriously?!”

Fred shrugged. “Yeah. Don’t know if it’s  _ harmful _ or not, but I wouldn’t take any chances if I were you.”

Albus glanced at the tray of pasties. “Yeah, I’m alright actually. Do you know if your dad’s drugged any of the other foods? And do our lovely hosts know?”

Fred shook his head. “I think you’d be good with anything but these. I’ve been standing guard, making sure no one eats them. Almost let you guys, just to have some fun, but I decided against it.”

“...Thanks?”

Fred clapped him on the shoulder. “You are very welcome.” He turned around.

“Wait, Fred?” Scorpius asked.

Fred turned back around. “Yeah?”

“Erm...why don’t you just  _ tell _ Ron and Hermione?”

Fred grinned. “Think Dad’s doing it to mess with Ron, these’re his favorites.” He paused. “Hermione hates ‘em though, so as long as I keep her away from them, I think I can have some fun with my Uncle.”

Scorpius stared at him.

Albus rolled his eyes. “You’re hopeless.” He grabbed Scorpius’ arm and led them away from a laughing Fred.

“Blimey, I’ve forgotten how insufferable your family is, Albus.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Were they like this at Hogwarts, too? I can’t remember.”

“Well, I’ve done my best to block most of that out of my memory, but yes, I’m sure they were.” Albus’ cousins really hadn’t changed much since they were at Hogwarts. Which was alarming because they had all graduated between four and eight years prior and he’d hoped that they would’ve grown up at least a  _ little _ . But no. According to his mum, none of his aunts and uncles had changed in any drastic way, either. His mum had said that in front of his Uncle Ron, who had in turn told Albus that his mum hadn’t changed much either. And they had argued about that for a few minutes, only proving each other’s points further. “I think I’ll dare to try a Cauldron Cake, want one?”

Scorpius looked at the tray of Cauldron Cakes, his eyes sweeping across them as he looked for anything suspicious. He sighed. “I suppose one couldn’t hurt.”

Albus winced. “Hate to break it you, mate, but if George’s done something to these, it’s not going to matter how many you eat. The damage’ll be done.”

“Well then, hopefully he’s not done anything.”

Albus handed him the Cauldron Cake.

Scorpius eyed it warily. “You first.”

Albus shrugged and took a bite out of the Cauldron Cake. He’d gone to enough family gatherings to have stumbled on more than a few of George’s experiments and none of them had ever been  _ too _ bad. The worst had been when he was twelve, and he had eaten a toffee off of one of the trays. His tongue had swelled up horribly and George had looked rather proud of himself. Albus’ dad had laughed, after he scolded George, and told Albus that the same prank had been pulled on his cousin, Dudley. Albus didn’t really care that it had been done before. He was twelve and had been far from thrilled not to be able to speak -- or do anything with his mouth, for that matter -- not least because it made James more impossible for the next while.

The Cauldron Cake seemed to be a normal Cauldron Cake, thank Merlin, and Albus gave Scorpius a thumbs-up.

“What’re Malfoy family gatherings like?” Albus asked, his mouth full.

Scorpius snorted. “What Malfoy family gatherings?”

Albus winced. “Point.”

“These’re good,” Scorpius said, looking at the cake.

Albus nodded. “My Gran makes them. And the treacle tart we’ll eat later. And...well, she likes to bake, she made most of the food here. She insists on it. Every gathering she refuses to let anyone else cook. I always thought it was kind of ridiculous until I tried my Uncle Ron’s cooking for the first time. Turns out she never taught my mum or any of her siblings how to cook, and they never had to at Hogwarts, so they’re all bloody awful at it.” He grimaced as he remembered Ron’s horrible failure to make everyone in their family breakfast when Albus was home on break in his seventh year. “Now I rather appreciate that she doesn’t let anyone else cook. She’s really quite good at it, actually.”

Scorpius nodded. “I’m guessing your mum never cooked much, then?”

“Yeah, it was mostly Dad. After he died Mum tried to a few times, but I think Gran just ended up bringing her meals. Or she’d go over to Ron and Hermione’s and eat there because at least Hermione can cook, though Ron sure as hell can’t. When Lily and I were home on breaks we’d cook because Dad taught us. But yeah, Mum can’t cook to save her life.”

“Your Mum seems like she would be a good cook.”

Albus laughed. “Well she’s definitely not. She tried to make us eggs a few years back, Lily’s turned out all runny, and mine were stiff and gross. It’s just eggs, for Merlin’s sake, I don’t see what’s so hard about it. But what about you, your parents cook much?”

“Yeah, actually. Both of them do. Always made it into some ‘family bonding time’ thing when I was a kid.”

“Am I incorrect in assuming that Draco Malfoy doesn’t cook the Muggle way, like the self-righteous pure-blood that he is?”

Scorpius laughed. “I’ll tell him you said that.”

Albus nearly spit out his Cauldron Cake. “Please, no.”

“I won’t, I won’t. But you are correct, he does not cook the Muggle way. He uses magic. Did your dad cook like a Muggle?”

“He taught us a bit of both ways. Freaked Mum out a bit, when he had us using knives to chop stuff when we were kids, instead of just using a charm. Don’t know what he was thinking, really. I wouldn’t let James within a Quidditch pitch of a knife  _ now _ , can’t believe Dad let him use one to chop vegetables when he was bloody six. Surprised we didn’t kill each other, ‘s a matter of fact.”

Scorpius laughed again. “Was Lily the only responsible child in the Potter household?”

“As kids, yeah probably.” He paused. “Not so much now.”

Scorpius raised an eyebrow. “Well, you’ve got to explain what that means. Who’s the most responsible child now? I know it’s not James, but Albus, I’ve seen your flat, so I’d have a hard time believing that it’s you either.”

Albus punched him on the shoulder lightly. “Shut it, my mum thinks my flat’s in pristine condition and I work quite hard to keep it that way.”

“I very seriously doubt your mum believes you, but in any case, carry on, I need to hear this Potter family drama.”

He rolled his eyes. “So, a few years ago, Lily graduated Hogwarts.” He paused, looking at Scorpius.

Scorpius gasped dramatically. “Oh, the horrors! How dare she graduate?”

Albus rolled his eyes again. “ _ Anyway _ , we all went to my Gran and Grandpa’s after the graduation, and we were sitting around their huge table eating and talking, and then James asks Lily if she’s got any plans for what she was going to do after. And she very casually told us all that she was going to ‘Stanford.’”

Scorpius’ brows furrowed.

“I know, we were confused too. My mum asked her what ‘Stanford’ was, and she told us that it was a Muggle university in America.”

Scorpius’ eyes widened and he choked on his bite of cake. “No,” he said.

“Yeah. And she hadn’t told  _ anyone _ . Mum, needless to say, was furious.” Albus remembered the look in his mother’s eyes when she had asked Lily if they might talk outside for a minute. He hadn’t envied Lily at that particular moment. He understood why his mum had been so angry, and thought that if his only daughter had decided to move to the other side of the bloody world without telling anyone, that he too would not be happy. But he did understand Lily’s want to get out.

Scorpius whistled. “Wow.”

“The rest of us felt kind of bad, really. Lily was never a problem child; never had at it like James and I did, and I think she wanted attention. I don’t hold that against her, but I do wish she’d told us. Or  _ someone _ at least.”

“So who’s the new most responsible child?”

“Teddy. He’s probably always been the most responsible, come to think of it.”

“Okay, but out of you, James, and Lily who’s most responsible?”

Albus thought about it for a minute. It wasn’t James, that much was for certain. And it wasn’t Lily, either. He didn’t blame her for going to Stanford, but she hadn’t made the most  _ responsible _ decisions, objectively speaking. But as Albus thought about the mess that he called his life, it couldn’t really be him either, could it? He had a shite job, never did his dishes, didn’t really clean anything ever, had no social life, oh and he had a massive crush on his best friend of over a decade but he was too bloody terrified to do or say anything to change a single part of it. That didn’t seem like the life that a responsible person would have. So “None of us?”

Scorpius laughed. “It can’t be none of you.”

“I think it is, mate. We’re all just messes.”

Scorpius didn’t look like he believed it, but evidently decided not to press. “Well, I can tell you with absolute certainty that I am the most responsible Malfoy child.”

Albus laughed. “But you’re also the least responsible Malfoy child.”

He considered it for a moment. “No, I don’t think so.”

“How can you not be?” He gasped. “Scorpius, do you have a secret sibling you’ve never told me about?”

Scorpius laughed. “No, I’m talking about the  _ history _ of the Malfoy line.”

“You’re saying that you’re the most responsible Malfoy  _ ever _ ?”

“I am.”

“Wow. That’s quite a claim. I hope you’ve come prepared with evidence because I’m going to need to-”

“Al? Scorpius?”

Wonderful. It was his Aunt Hermione. Why did people keep interrupting them in the middle of conversations?

Rose was standing a few feet behind her, looking awkward.  _ Sorry _ , she mouthed, looking apologetic. Albus frowned at her and opened his mouth.

“Hello,” Scorpius said.

“Enjoying the party?”

“We are,” said Albus. “Is it living up to expectations?”

Hermione laughed. “More than, I’m glad you both came.”

Albus frowned. “It’s your birthday, Aunt Hermione, of course I came.”

“Well then, I’m glad you brought Scorpius here along.”

Oh great.  _ That’s _ what this was about. “Er...yep.”

“And are you two together?”

Well, at least she was straightforward about it.

Albus spluttered, not knowing how to respond, hadn’t he just had this conversation a few minutes ago with James? But James had only been teasing, he knew that Albus and Scorpius weren’t together. Why couldn’t he think of something to say?

To his great surprise, Scorpius spoke.

What Scorpius said surprised him even more.

Scorpius straightened his back and grabbed Albus’ hand, squeezing it firmly. “Yes. Yes we are.”

Albus, who had been trying to calm himself down with a cup of water, choked and spit it out.

“Are you alright?” Hermione asked.

“Yep,” Albus was gasping for air. “All good. That’s me. I am all good. Everything’s fine.”

Hermione looked at him weirdly, but Scorpius just smiled.

Albus met Scorpius’ eyes and tried to ask him  _ what in the name of Merlin had made you say that?? _

Hermione brightened and gave him a hug. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re happy, Al. You are happy right?” She pulled away.

“Yep. Real happy.”

“Good. We were worried about you.” She looked at him for a long moment, like she was analyzing him, trying to find whatever she thought he might be hiding.

“No need to worry,” he said. “And, erm, Scorpius and I were going to...help Gran out in the kitchen, so we’ll be…”

She stepped to the side. “Of course, good luck in there!”

Albus grabbed Scorpius’ arm and dragged him off to the back patio, where there were fewer guests. His hands were shaking again, he noticed. “What in the bloody hell?” he hissed.

Scorpius winced. “I thought you wanted her to think you were dating someone?”

Albus ran his hand through his hair. “I...I didn’t want to  _ lie _ about it.”

Scorpius raised an eyebrow. “Well you’re not dating anyone right?”

“Yeah.”

“Then...how exactly did you plan on...not lying about it?”

“I was going to…I dunno...I was going to go with you, and then...hope she didn’t ask questions?” It sounded stupid when he said it out loud.

“Well, that’s stupid.”

Albus shot him a look. “Fuck.”

Scorpius put his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “So...what’re you going to do now?”

He ran another hand through his hair. “I...fuck. I don’t know.” He shook his head and sighed. “Scorpius...what  _ exactly _ did you think I meant when I said ‘we don’t have to lie’ in my letter?”

Scorpius winced and looked at his shoes. He mumbled something unintelligible.

“What?”

He looked up. “I...didn’t…” he sighed. “Well, I didn’t  _ really _ read the...whole thing…”

“For Merlin’s sake, Scorpius!”

“Yeah, I’m sorry, I was a bit distracted at the time.”

“And what about my conversation with James? The one where I  _ explicitly _ said that we were not dating? Like, multiple times?”

“I thought you were just doing it for James, you know? Because he’s...James?”

“Scorpius!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

He really did look sorry, and Albus couldn’t stay mad at him. He took a deep breath. “Okay. Alright. This is fine. What do  _ you _ want to do now?”

“Well I mean, I don’t mind if you want to keep lying.”

Albus’ head shot up. “Really?”

Scorpius shrugged. “Yeah.” He grinned (stupid fucking grin). “It’ll make our lives a little more interesting, yeah? Take our minds off bloody Matilda?”

Oh, right. Matilda. Albus had forgotten about the rest of the mess that was his life in the midst of this new, particularly messy mess coming into being. He was filled with dread at the thought that he would still have to get Ron, George, and Scorpius to get on well if he ever wanted to be rid of Matilda.

Most of his brain was telling him that this was a horrible idea that would only end in disaster and make Albus’ life -- as impossible as it seemed in that moment -- even more complicated.

But a small part of his brain, and every bit of his heart, told him that this was a chance to  _ date _ , or at least pretend to date, Scorpius Malfoy. And he couldn’t just pass up a chance like that. He knew he’d certainly never get another one.

So he took another deep breath and looked at Scorpius. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, if you don’t mind, let’s do it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhh, sorry this took a while! I decided to kill Harry and not Astoria because of reasons, thanks for reading and hope you enjoyed!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! The beginning's a bit of a mess (sorry) but I think (hope) it gets better. This will probably update somewhat regularly, I don't have a strict schedule.


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